In the Business
by INMH
Summary: With every day that passes, Balthazar finds himself liking humanity more and more. Slight Balthazar/Bela.


In the Business

Rating: PG-13/T  
>Genre: GeneralRomance (If you can call it that. They really should have a 'lust' category).

Summary: With every day that passes, Balthazar finds himself liking humanity more and more. Slight Balthazar/Bela.

Author's Note: Yeah. This pairing popped into my head and wouldn't go away, and now it's my new OTP. FIRST SUPERNATURAL STORY FTW!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural (Eric Kripke is a lucky, lucky man).

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><p>As he sat at the table in the coffee shop and gazed out the window, Balthazar found himself liking the world of humans a little more every moment.<p>

Humans would be judged for their sins at the end of their lives, but really, at least they could commit _any_ sins within their lifetime without the wrath of the Host coming down on their comparatively delicate heads. They could live it up while they could and deal with the consequences later.

Strictly speaking, the requirements to get into Heaven weren't as strict as many had been led to believe. Having sex outside of wedlock wouldn't damn you, nicking a pack of cigarettes from a dimes store wouldn't land you on the rack and homosexuality really wasn't as big of an issue as humans made it out to be: All you had to do was be a reasonably decent person.

Now angels- Angels had it rougher. Even though most humans weren't even _aware_ that angels existed, said supernatural beings were meant to be role models, examples of morality and virtue for humans to follow. Angels did not succumb to greed, did not overindulge, brought only God's wrath onto the heads of others and surely, of all these things, did not have _dirty thoughts_.

Balthazar snorted. Angels weren't supposed to lie, either, but any angel who ever said that they never _once_ thought about indulging a little whilst on earth was a dirty, rotten, hypocrite.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall. There was a potential business associate coming to meet him within the next ten minutes. She said her name was Alexandra Lugosi; she was lying. Having the ability to sense when someone was lying through their teeth was never a particularly useful trait until he'd come to earth: Humans were much easier to read than angels.

He'd gleaned only so much from their phone conversation: She was a human woman with an apparently considerable knowledge of the supernatural. She might, for all he knew, be a hunter, and coming after him under the impression that he was pawning dangerous supernatural items for a price, and was either planning on killing him or maybe actually buying from him.

He hadn't dealt in depth with many humans since his arrival on earth. The only humans (that he was aware of) that knew he was an angel were the Winchesterbrothers and maybe their friend Bobby. The _ménage a…_ Was it twelve or thirteen? Maybe more? Well, whatever it was, it had been delightfully anonymous and utterly carnal, resulting in not so much as a name muttered between bedmates. And the only other dealings he'd had had been with those he'd dealt weapons to.

He sniffed. Well, whoever this human was and whatever she knew, she was dangerously close to being late. Balthazar could tolerate a lot of things, but tardiness fell on his list of pet peeves. There was little more he despised than having his time wasted because someone couldn't bother to-

Balthazar froze.

He had often heard humans calling certain things- or certain people- _heavenly_ when they were particularly attractive. But this woman? They didn't make 'em like that in heaven. In Balthazar's own mind- and he was willing to admit that it had fallen a little farther into the gutter than he was necessarily proud of- she was _bloody_ sexy. Low-cut blouse, short skirt with a slit up the side, _very_ shapely legs…

His angel brothers would look upon him with disdain if they could see the sheer intensity of the leer he was directing at her.

Screw them, then- They'd be the ones that never got laid. (Idly, Balthazar hoped that Castiel would be the one that pulled the stick out of his ass long enough to do so. Killjoy or not, he was, privately, Balthazar's favorite brother).

The woman stopped, looked around, and then made eye contact with him. The corner of her lip- covered in a quite flattering shade of maroon lipstick- quirked upward, and she made her way over to him.

Dear Father, today was his lucky, _lucky_ day.

"Mr. Carvaka?" She extended her hand and he shook it. "Alexandra Lugosi. It's a pleasure."

"Yes, it's, ah-" His eyes flickered irresistibly downward to her legs and then just as quickly jerked back up to her face. "-Nice to… Nice to meet you."

She noticed. Of course she noticed. She seemed like a shrewd sort of lady.

And to further Balthazar's growing suspicion that she was also a vicious little tease, she slid into the seat across from him and sat at an angle, so that her legs were off to the side rather than under the table.

Between the length of both the skirt and the slit within said skirt, Balthazar was getting a very, very nice view.

While he seemed to be perfectly content to leer at her (and she to be leered at), there was business that they had to attend to. Very business-like business, rather than fun-business-that-isn't-actually-proper-business, to his disappointment.

"So," He drawled. "You were interested in procuring some merchandise from me?"

"Mm. Merchandise." Their eyes met purposefully, and he could tell that she was trying to gauge if they had the same type of "merchandise" in mind; that being, supernatural merchandise that was far more terrifying and destructive than any illegal gun or knife sold on the black market.

He gave a slight nod. Yes- _that_ merchandise. And she nodded back.

"Right. What are you looking for?"

"Anything of high monetary value to the discerning customer." Ah yes, that made sense; everything about her was currently screaming "Gold Digger!" Of course, Balthazar was into the trading of the weapons in his collection for something far more valuable than mortal currency: Souls.

While Ms. Lugosi was clearly not above selling dangerous artifacts to the highest bidder, he wasn't certain yet that his desire for human souls- a sadly traditional motive for demons- would be kosher with her. Best to tread carefully until he _could_ tell if she would be alarmed or otherwise bothered by this.

"I have much of… That." Balthazar said.

"And what would you be willing to hand some over for?"

_A date with you wearing something in the halter-top family. And a skirt as short as that one. _

Balthazar had to force himself not to smirk, because he knew it would come across either lecherously or creepily, and that was never a way you wanted to look at someone when you wanted to strike a deal with them.

"Hm. Well…" He tapped the table pensively. "My… _Gain_ from… _Parting_ with these artifacts is somewhat different than yours, Ms. Lugosi." He said sleekly. "Bluntly put, I'm not after money." Her brow furrowed curiously.

"What _are_ you after, then?"

His smirk was cunning and quick. "That's for me to know and you to possibly discover in the future. Balthazar leaned forward. "Here's my offer: There are ten artifacts. You find me five people willing to take five of them and set me up for a little meeting with them. If you do that, I'll give you the other five for free."

Lugosi's eyes popped open. Clearly she hadn't believed that it would be so easy (or free). "And all I have to do is find people that are willing to do business with you," She said slowly, "So that you can sell five of these ten artifacts to them." Balthazar nodded. "That's all?"

"That's all. And my advice to you: Find people that are particularly desperate." She started to nod, but then froze. All at once, suspicion and what might have been a flicker of fear danced through her eyes. Any trace of flirtatious sweetness or light-heartedness disappeared in a heartbeat. She lowered her voice.

"Are you a demon?" She asked darkly. "Because I warn you now, I don't work with demons." Her mouth opened ever so slightly, as though she intended to elaborate further, but then she clapped it shut almost as quickly. Her slight hesitation, though, was all it took to get Balthazar curious, and he took a slight, innocuous peek into her mind.

_Not anymore, anyway_.

The rush of dread, nausea, agony and raw _terror_ that he felt made him pull out quickly, and he may have winced.

"No, I'm not."

"Prove it."

"I'll do that and more when I know I can trust you not to stab me in the back at the first opportunity." They locked eyes. She was breathing a little more heavily than before. And yes, he was certain that in spite of her current fears, she was very capable of stabbing him in the back and/or cutting his throat if she so deigned to. He would tell her nothing until he could be certain that she and him functioned on the same wavelength, that he knew her well enough to know when she might be up to something devious.

Or until she trusted him enough to put his hand up her skirt. Either way, Balthazar was looking forward to a very mutually-satisfying partnership.

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><p>Okay, so- Balthazar is like the male, angel version of Bela. Seriously. All charisma and sarcasm and tricky stealing and selling things they shouldn't be selling to people they shouldn't be selling to. And at the same time, managing to both help and hinder our beloved Winchesters at every turn.<p>

On Balthazar's alias: Carvaka was an Indian hedonist from the 14th century. He believed that there was no afterlife (which I guess, if we're going for a full analogy, could equate to Balthazar's pessimism towards the war in heaven) and that you should take pleasure in life because that's all we have. He was, evidently, big on sensual indulgence (i.e. sex :D).


End file.
